


Defend my honour

by Colourspaz



Category: Mighty Ducks (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Language, Past Child Abuse, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-28 07:32:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18205418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colourspaz/pseuds/Colourspaz
Summary: Fulton patches Portman up. Deep talks ensue.





	1. Chapter 1

Right as Fulton is thinking “Hey, shouldn’t Portman be back by now?” his phone buzzes with a call. He digs it out of his pocket and answers it with a sigh. 

“What’s up, Conway?” 

“Portman got himself into another fight.” 

“Aw, shit. Where?” Fulton is already standing up and reaching for his coat. 

“Behind the arcade.” 

“Thanks, Conway.” He hangs up the phone and practically falls down the stairs trying to get out of the dorms. 

Realistically, he knows that Portman can definitely hold his own-really, he should be more worried about the other guy-but he can’t help but wish he could get there faster. 

He ducks into the ally behind the arcade to find Charlie standing back, looking as if he wants to hold Portman back but knows that it would be ineffective. 

Fulton vaguely recognizes the guy currently going hand-to-hand with Portman, someone from another local hockey team. He surprisingly seems to be holding his own. Hell, he might even be winning. 

Portman rears his hand back to throw another punch and Fulton grabs his wrist. Not seeing who it is, Portman jerks his hand away and lands the punch right in the kid’s jaw. 

“Portman!” 

Fulton places a hand on his shoulder to stop him, and he finally turns around, giving Fulton a full view of his busted lip and black eye. 

He holds his gaze for a long time, and the other boy scrambles away. Fulton finally looks away, towards Charlie. 

“Thanks, Charlie. See you tomorrow?” 

Charlie knows this is his cue to leave, and he does so with a nod. 

It starts raining as they walk back to the dorm. Portman doesn’t seem to mind, so neither does Fulton. 

They’re both sopping wet and shivering, but Portman’s also injured and limping slightly, so Fulton drags him into the small bathroom and pushes him down onto the edge of the tub. 

“Is your leg okay?” 

Portman shrugs. 

“That dickass knocked a fucking trashcan into my knee. I decked him in the fuckin’ jaw, though. Wiped the shitty grin off of his face.” Portman says. 

Fulton gets a worried feeling in his stomach. Portman swearing excessively usually means he’s too angry to deal with any other emotions. 

“Why were you fighting him anyways?” Fulton asks, leaning over Portman to get the shower on. 

Portman mumbles something that he doesn’t quite catch over the hiss of the water. 

“What?”

“I said, he was disrespecting you.” Portman repeats, not meeting Fulton’s eyes. 

“How so?” Fulton presses. “Seriously, it was enough for an off-ice fight?” 

“Saying you should quit. That you’re weak because…” Portman trails off. 

Fulton squats down so that he’s eye level with Portman. 

“Because what, Dean?” 

“Because you like guys. I don’t know how he found out. You should have let me finish him off.” Portman says tightly. 

Fulton stops him with a kiss, quick and sharp. 

“Hey. Get in the shower. I’ll make dinner and get stuff for your face and your leg. We don’t need to worry about dickasses like him.” Fulton says, leaving no room for argument. 

A pause. 

Portman eventually nods and stands up. Fulton kisses him once more, murmurs “Thank you” against Portman’s lips, and leaves the bathroom. 

~

Later, when they’ve both eaten and showered and Fulton’s only complained a little bit about Portman using up all of the hot water, they sit in the bathroom again as Fulton patches Portman up. 

Tenderly, carefully, he pours antiseptic over Portman’s scraped and bruised knuckles and wraps the bandages tight. When he’s done, he takes his hand and kisses Portman’s fingers softly. 

“Is your knee any better?” 

“S’ a little sore still.” 

“Did you take any painkillers?” 

Portman shakes his head. Fulton nods once, then gets up and gets the bottle of Tylenol down from the cabinet. 

“I’ll be right back with an ice pack. Just chill on the couch or the bed and put a pillow under your knee.” 

“Okay, Mom.” 

Fulton leaves, grinning. 

They end up on the bed, Portman sitting up against the headboard and Fulton in between his legs. The laptop is playing their DVD of Clueless, because it’s a guilty pleasure for both of them. 

As the credits begin to roll, neither of them make a move to get up. The rain is pattering on the windows softly, and they lay there, soaking in each other’s presence. 

Portman is running his fingers through Fulton’s hair, and Fulton is almost asleep when, out of nowhere, Portman stops. Fulton whines and motions for him to keep going. 

“I’m really glad I met you,” Portman says, voice barely above a whisper. Fulton blinks himself fully awake, and turns his head to kiss Portman’s jaw. 

“So am I.” 

“Seriously. My life would be in a completely different place right now if I hadn’t met you. I don’t even know if…” He swallows. “If I’d be alive right now.” 

Fulton turns around completely at that, being careful of Portman’s knee. 

“Why? If you’re okay with me asking.” 

Portman sighs. 

“My dad. When I was in elementary school, I told him I liked a boy, and he signed me up for hockey lessons the next day. To make me ‘more of a man.’ To force the homo out. And so I played and played, just to make him happy. And I liked it. Like it.” Portman’s eyes are watery, but he continues. 

“He’s the one who made me try out for the Goodwill Games. I was so tempted to just run out, but I knew he’d be parked in the lot the whole time.”

“So I went in. The plan was to do whatever I could to make them not want me on the team.”

“But then…there was this boy on the ice. Just something about him made me curious. Made me want to know him better. I think you can peice the rest together.” 

Fulton kisses him. Softly, sweetly, Portman kisses back. They break but stay close to each other, not wanting the moment to end. 

“What happened with him?” Fulton asks cautiously. 

“While we were at Goodwill, my mom finally got evidence of him...doing what he did. He’s in jail now.” 

“He hit her?” Fulton asks. Portman nods. 

“Me, too. If I ever lost a game, he’d make me train until I collapsed.” 

They sit in silence. Fulton runs his knuckles up and down Portman’s arms gently, and they listen to the rain. 

Eventually, they put the laptop away and rearrange themselves for sleep. Portman falls asleep quickly, but Fulton has to get something off of his shoulders. 

“I love you, Dean Portman.” 

And he can’t be sure, but he thinks he feels Portman grip his waist the slightest bit tighter.


	2. Epilogue

The events of the day slowly blur together in Fulton’s mind as the night goes on. Well, maybe not blur together. He can clearly remember what Portman looked like at the altar, tall and etheral and beautiful. 

He looks to his left and finds his boyfr-husband-surrounded by Averman, Charlie, and Adam, who are all chanting “Portman Pentalty! Portman Penalty!” over and over. Fulton grins and excuses himself from Julie and Goldberg’s conversation to walk over. 

“Please, guys. If anyone’s gonna get him to strip, it’ll be me.” Fulton says, smirking. This earns a slap on the arm from Charlie and groans from Averman and Adam. They all laugh and talk and it’s like they’re back in highschool. 

Eventually, people start trickling out, saying goodbye and giving their well-wishes to Fulton and Portman. They’re the last to leave, not wanting to say goodbye to the euphoria of the reception but also very eager to get to their hotel room. 

Portman kisses him as soon as the door clicks shut, gripping his jaw and holding him close. 

“What was that you said about getting me to strip?” Portman asks, grinning. Fulton grins back and kisses into Portman’s neck, untieing his bowtie slowly. He pulls it off of his neck and throws it to the floor, moving for the buttons of Portman’s shirt. 

He unbuttons the top one, then leans in and kisses the skin he’d just revealed. He does this with all of the buttons, until he’s kneeling in front of Portman and they’re both flushed and breathing hard. 

Much to Portman’s dismay, he stands back up and slides Portman’s shirt off of his shoulders. As soo as it’s dropped to the floor, Portman pushes him back onto the wall, pinning his arms above his head. 

“So eager.” Fulton murmurs. 

“Shut up.” 

He kisses into his neck, biting and nipping and surely leaving marks. 

Fulton tilts his head to the side, letting Portman take control. He gasps when Portman starts at the bolt of his jaw, and Portman grins. 

“Who’s eager now?” 

“Shut up and get these clothes off of me.” 

“Gladly.”

~

The first thing Fulton feels when he wakes up is the weight of his wedding ring on his finger and the second thing is Portman’s breath tickling the back of his neck. 

He can’t help but smile. 

Eventually, the breath on the back of his neck becomes annoying, and he turns around to wake his husband up. 

“Hey.” 

A poke to his side. 

“Hey.” 

Another poke. Portman shifts and groans tiredly. Fulton pokes him a third time, and Portman grabs his wrist. 

“Quit it. I wanna sleep.” Portman mumbles. Fulton pulls his wrist back and burrows himself deeper into the covers. Portman moves an arm to pull Fulton closer, placing his chin over Fulton’s head. Fulton presses a kiss to Portman’s collarbone and they both drift back into sleep. 

They wake up for real an hour or so later. Fulton rolls out of bed and manages to get a sweatshirt out of his suitcase. He starts the hot water for coffee, and grabs the room service menu. 

“Hey, Portman, you want breakfast?”

“Yeah.” 

“Then get up and look at the menu with me.” 

“Come over here and make me.” 

Fulton can hear the smirk in Portman’s voice, and it takes a lot of willpower to not turn around. 

But he does anyways, and instantly knows he’s got no chance. Portman is reclined on the bed in his pajamas (which is to say, a pair of shorts with the band of his underwear peeking out,) arms behind his head and grinning widely. 

He walks over and crawls on top of him, kissing him. 

“You’ve got no damn right looking that good all of the time.” he mutters. Portman laughs. 

“That why you married me?” 

“Guess so.” Fulton murmurs against his neck, kissing him slowly.

“I’m glad I met you. I know I’ve said that before. I’m glad I get to spend the rest of my life with you.” Portman says. 

“I love you too, Mr. Portman-Reed.” 

They laugh together, and everything is better than it has been in a long time. For both of them. It can only get better. 


End file.
